


Diamonds (Are A Girl's Best Friend)

by MikeWritesThings



Series: rarepair week [5]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Dates, Chatlogs, Drinking, Established Relationship, F/F, Flirting, Humor, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26898877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeWritesThings/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: Anita wants to propose to her girlfriend, Loba—but something is holding her back.
Relationships: Loba Andrade/Bangalore | Anita Williams
Series: rarepair week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964263
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	Diamonds (Are A Girl's Best Friend)

**Author's Note:**

> day 5 of rarepair week, college au! loosely. hehe
> 
> this is kind of a sequel to my fic "rose bowl" in that its set in the same universe/setting but u dont rly need to read it to understand this fic ;w; theres just a few minor references here and there
> 
> tws:  
> some mentions of homelessness, allusions to depression/suicide/PTSD

rampart: @bangalore so when are ya gonna do it

bangalore: do what

rampart: oh dont be daft

rampart: get down on one knee you big old lesbian

bangalore: i’m not sure i know what you’re talking about.

rampart: I SAW IT

rampart: W ME OWN EYES!!!!!

wraith: saw what.

rampart: A DIAMOND RING!!!!!!!

rampart: for WE DD IN GS

bangalore: you imagined it, parekh.

wraith: just because you said that 

wraith: i am now sure that ramya is telling the truth.

lifeline: What’s this about wedding rings?

bangalore: nobody said anything about wedding rings

bangalore: just diamonds

rampart: its gotta be for a wedding mate

rampart: do you think were fucking stupid

bangalore: you really want me to answer that?

octane: WEDDING RINGS?

rampart: well shit now i cant be mad if you call us stupid because hes here

octane: what

rampart: nothing

octane: ANITAS GONNA PROPOSE TO TÍA LOBAAAAAAAAA

octane: LESBIAN ASS

octane: LMAAAAAAAAO

wraith: oh my god

lifeline: So when’s the wedding date?

bangalore: there IS NONE.

bangalore: because i have not PROPOSED YET.

wraith: so you admit that you are going to propose?

bangalore: FUCK.

rampart: LMAAAAAAO

lifeline: Lol

lifeline: Bout time, you old hag

bangalore: don’t talk to me like that

octane: @crypto so when are u gonna propose to me

crypto:

crypto: i JUST moved here.

octane: i want to be married by the end of this year

octane: capisce?

octane: time is ticking amigo

crypto: i have not even unpacked my things yet, octavio.

lifeline: Leave the poor boy alone Silva

rampart: hold on stop derailing the convo

rampart: williams.

bangalore: parekh.

rampart: when are you gonna propose

bangalore: ugh.

bangalore: when i find the right time.

wraith: when is that, exactly?

bangalore: when i decide.

octane: well u should do it fast

octane: before someone sweeps her up

lifeline: No one’s gonna sweep her up

lifeline: Give her some time

rampart: you better get married before i go back to london cuz im gonna be fuckin mad if you dont

crypto: hold on.

crypto: is loba even open to the concept of marriage?

crypto: is this why you are hesitant?

bangalore: not...exactly

bangalore: we’ve discussed it before

lifeline: Aw

bangalore: but i’ve explicitly told her before that i didn’t want to get married and she seemed fine with that

lifeline: Oh

rampart: what changed

bangalore: well i told her that last year

bangalore: lot has happened since then.

wraith: haha. gay.

bangalore: shut the fuck up

octane: i wanna be best man

bangalore: silva shut up

lifeline: Me and Nat are maids of honor right?

rampart: i wanna officiate 

rampart: i can get a license for that online

rampart: or just do it illegally. that works too

bangalore: ALL OF YOU SHUT UP

wraith: i’m not going

crypto: me neither. i have better things to do

bangalore: can’t believe i’m saying this but you two are the only damn people i respect in this chat.

* * *

“You’ve got a lot on your mind, darling,” her girlfriend said, and when she looked up from her food Loba placed her hand delicately on her cheek, gentle. “I can tell.”

Before Loba, Anita would’ve snapped at anyone who dared to call her ‘ _darling_ ’, or ‘ _dear_ ’, and especially ‘ _sweetheart_ ’. And she _had_ snapped at Loba before for doing so—the way she said it just sounded so _condescending,_ so fake, but after a while she realized that that was just what Loba sounded like. Sweet like honey with a tinge of danger in it.

“I don’t let anybody near me,” the woman had told her last year, sitting in the bed of Anita’s truck. They could see the Santa Monica Pier ferris wheel from here. “Not near enough to care.”

“Is that what you calling me ‘ _dear_ ’ is?” Anita had asked, somewhat sarcastic. “Caring?”

“A little bit,” Loba said, shaking her loose hair over her shoulder—thick and long and beautiful, a sight hardly anybody got to see. "It's concerning, really."

"What is?"

“I think I care about you, Anita Williams.” She clicked her tongue, eyes reflecting the stars. "And that worries me."

Loba’s secretary, Jaime, told her that she was special. Loba only allowed appointments through her door, even when she had been having flings with male underwear models or ex-beauty pageant stars—but when it came to Anita, she was allowed up to the top floor and into the office after a simple mention of her name.

Loba was always sitting primly on her leather white chair whenever she arrived, somehow looking so _relaxed,_ even when surrounded by mountains of paperwork.

“You came all the way up to see me, sweetheart?” She would purr, and had she been anybody else, Anita would have clocked her for saying that. And had _Anita_ been anybody else, she was sure that Loba wouldn’t have even allowed her onto the elevator. So she took the name without complaint and crossed the room to set her little _iced caffe espresso latte, double-shot,_ on her desk. “Aww, you remembered.”

“Only took five tries to get it right,” Anita grumbled.

Loba smiled at her, crossing her arms over her desk, and asked, “Dinner tonight?”

“You payin’?”

“Of course,” she said in that faux sweet voice of her that used to grate her nerves, but she didn’t mind it so much now.

Currently they sat across from one another in some fine-dining seafood joint that Anita could only have afforded if she sold all of her personal belongings and then some. She never would have dreamed of coming here had her girlfriend not been one of the richest people on the West Coast—a sometimes infuriating title, but she had gotten used to it.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Loba said, and she felt the other woman tease her heeled foot along her own leg, a playful gesture that ticked her off on a bad day and made her mildly annoyed on a good one. 

What was she thinking about? A lot, really.

Thinking about how this time, two years ago, she'd been almost homeless, one vacate notice after another piling up in her apartment with every late payment. She’d worked a deal with the apartment people, said she would pay, she just needed extra time, and those leeches had been fine with that. As long as they got to slap a fifty-dollar late fee on her every time she dropped an envelope full of cash off at the office.

 _Bastards_.

Anita knew that she never would have been _truly_ homeless. Could’ve moved back in with her ma, helped the lady out after her dad had passed away not that long ago, but she was terrified of statistics. The amount of homeless vets on the streets, vets who couldn’t get jobs and were stuck living with their families and making their lives a living hell with every nightmare and panic attack brought on by a car backfiring.

 _She_ was terrified of becoming a statistic, and was trapped in a strange sort of limbo because of it.

Her ma had found out about her struggling and started helping her with her rent, but she hated feeling like a burden, so she went back to college after applying for the stupid veteran program. Met Loba on campus, scouting for young models. Didn't even like her when they first met, loathed every day she stumbled into her, but now she didn't know where she would be if she hadn't met her.

(Probably not alive.)

Her engineering degree felt closer today than it had back then, but it still seemed like something on the distant horizon. A lot of things felt distant, but Loba...didn’t.

Loba was here through her highs and lows—they’d _both_ been there for each other at some of the worst points in their life, and now, she wanted to be there for some of her best. 

Call her cheesy, corny, any kind of label Jackie would’ve put on her if he’d heard her say that out loud. The ring in her pocket burned, but she was hesitating, and she didn’t know why.

(No, she _did._ Reluctance to bear her heart on her sleeve for even a second, let herself open up and say _Loba Andrade, you've helped me keep my head above water this past year—let me walk with you on land._ )

“I’ve got an exam,” Anita ended up muttering, and Loba raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with her response.

“You know I hate it when you lie,” she said, and damn her, able to sniff out dishonesty like a fucking...wolf, or something. “But if you’re not willing to tell me, fine.”

“It’s not anything important,” she tried, and Loba just scoffed.

“That’s strike two, Sergeant.”

“Can you not with that name, right now?”

Loba took a sip from her wine, pinky finger sticking up in a dainty way, before saying, “Williams, then.”

There came a pause in their conversation, Anita’s foot now tapping against the marble floors. She felt like someone in the room was watching her, but couldn’t pinpoint who. She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder, but turned back when Loba spoke up again.

“Is it your rent?”

“ _Loba_ ,” she said forcefully, setting her fork down, and her girlfriend’s regal features didn’t even flinch at the tone of her voice. Biting on her tongue, Anita sighed, letting her head drop before straightening back up, suddenly much more tired than she’d been all day. “Nothing like that.”

Loba didn’t say anything, just kept staring at her, but her silence was good. She hadn’t detected a lie, because she _wasn’t_ lying. Her rent wasn’t in trouble this month. Hadn’t been for several.

She cut up her salmon, trying to ignore the way that Loba was now being passive-aggressively silent, but she couldn't take it anymore. She needed to refresh.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Anita excused herself, and stood up, adjusting her leather jacket over her shoulders. She left the room, wandering the restaurant hallways for a bit before some snooty-looking hostess pointed her in the right direction. 

Inside she splashed water on her face before looking up at her reflection. There were dark bags beneath her eyes from lack of sleep, staying up night after night to study. She didn’t look bad, but she didn’t look good, either.

“Get it together, Williams,” she told herself, and was tempted to pull her phone out for...moral support, maybe? She hadn’t told everyone that she was going to propose tonight, because she wasn’t even sure if she _was_ —something held her back, and she couldn’t bring herself to even touch the ring while it rested in her pocket. 

Parekh would just make fun of her again, and Blasey would be unhelpful. Paquette was asleep, Park and Silva were doing god knows what, Witt had gone offline these past few weeks in his attempt to woo one of his bar’s patrons, and Che...

 _If anybody messages me tonight_ , she recalled Che saying, _while I’m writing this paper, you’re going to die._

Deciding that she didn't _need_ moral support, she tucked her phone away and sighed. No such thing as _moral support_ in the military, and she didn't need to start seeking it out now. Especially not from _those_ kids.

She could do this.

She had to.

* * *

Anita ended up not doing it. Couldn’t find the right time, she told herself—didn’t want a public proposal, didn’t want Loba to feel any pressure to say yes. Their night had ended after she’d dropped Loba off outside her place, waving goodbye. 

They'd moved past their awkward silence after finishing their food, but not a single moment between point A and point B had been appropriate enough for any sort of proposal. If she'd asked Loba while in the truck, she wouldn't have blamed her for saying no on principle.

It’d been a week since then, though, and every day she woke up and took a look at that stupid ring—silver, with a small diamond in the middle that she’d used half her savings to buy—and told herself that today would be the day. _Had_ to be.

But then she just...didn’t. They’d gone out together twice in that time, and after each date she’d just stare, watching her go up the steps into the lobby of her building, greeting the wide-eyed security guard who didn’t know where to look whenever she entered.

Her throat dried up whenever she tried to speak, and she felt like a Lord of the Rings character—as soon as she touched the stupid thing in her pocket she’d disappear, consumed by whatever the hell was brewing inside of her every time she thought of marrying Loba.

Getting to call her _my wife,_ instead of just _my girlfriend._ Having someone by her side every night to calm her after nightmares filled with haunting echoes. Living, moving, breathing. _Together._

Her ma would gush if she ever heard her say any it, so she hadn’t told her yet, but she was seriously considering doing so. Anita’s father had been a quiet man, so her _mother_ had been the one to propose—or had at least dropped a ring on his desk one day and told him a time and a place.

She wished that she had that confidence, wished that she could ask her for her advice—but for the sake of everyone’s sanity she eventually decided not to. God knows that ‘Zaia would call her up immediately just to tease _“who would’ve thought?”_

And, as if reading her mind, Witt slammed a beer in front of her, snapping her out of her thoughts as he echoed, “Who would’ve thought? _You?_ Getting _married?_ ”

“Announce it to the whole bar, why don’t you,” Anita said flatly, and knocked the bottle against the counter to get the top off. 

“Alright,” Witt said, and cupped his hands over his mouth, as if prepared to shout.

“ _Don’t_ ,” she commanded, loud, and he let his hands drop, looking a little disappointed. “I came here to relax. Not so that you could stress me out.”

“Oh, good,” he said. “I thought you’d be offended if I ignored you tonight.”

“I would much rather that you do.”

“Alright,” Witt said, glancing down the bar, and she followed his gaze. Someone sat on the opposite end, scars webbing across their face, reading a goddamn book on a Friday night. “W-well, I have some smooth-talking to do.”

He disappeared, and Anita sighed, staring down into her bottle as he ran off to do what men do.

She’d considered inviting Loba out with her tonight; maybe all she needed was a little liquid courage to propose. But she hadn’t. She was half-sure that today was a busy day for her, meeting up with some of the people she was going to be sponsoring. The world of fashion was far more complicated than Anita had ever thought it could be.

Her phone was buzzing in her pocket, the group chat alive with messages. She wanted to ignore it, because recently every text just seemed to be hounding her on the situation; _when are you proposing, when's the wedding, can I come, are you going to wear dresses or suits_. Being the annoying kids that they were.

She nursed her beer, tuning out whatever game was playing on the screen above her, before sighing and pulling the damned thing out. Just to see what they were talking about.

* * *

octane: @bangalore @bangalore @bangalore

octane: if u dont propose SOON taejoon is going to propose to me first

octane: this is a threat

crypto: i am?

octane: you are :)

rampart: we still harassing her??

rampart: oi hag propose to your girlfriend already im sick of looking at ya

octane: thats the spirit <3

lifeline: We do this every night

rampart: we do it every night to encourage her

crypto: no, you do it to annoy her.

rampart: eh same thing

lifeline: Anita if you’re reading this I tried to stop them

wraith: you gave up fairly quick.

octane: cmon renee join us

wraith: i’m good. i’ve had enough of hearing elliott rant about the ‘hot nerd’ at the bar.

wraith: and i’ve had enough of you and park, and natalie and ajay, flirting in chat.

wraith: i’ve suffered through enough romances to last me a lifetime.

rampart: sounds like what a single person would say

wraith: :)

octane: see this is why u arent going to be invited to the wedding

octane: not mine OR anitas

octane: and MAYBE not ajays

lifeline: No, she can come

octane: nooooo dont invite her i was in the middle of banning her

* * *

“Fancy seeing you here tonight,” a voice said, and Anita set her phone down rather harshly against the bar, turning to see Loba standing behind her. She was leaning against her little wolf staff—she didn’t know its purpose, but Loba had declared that it was for fashion. It was kind of threatening, if she was being honest.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Anita asked, heart hammering in her chest, hoping that her girlfriend hadn’t read any of those messages over her shoulder.

“Well, you weren’t at the apartment,” Loba said lightly, before sliding into the seat next to her. She then clicked her fingers twice, and Witt came rushing over like a puppy, eyes wide. “Gin and tonic, _lindo_.”

“Comin’ right up,” Witt said, and Anita rolled her eyes.

“So you assumed that because I wasn’t at the apartment, I had to be out drinking?”

Loba’s lips curled into a smirk, eyebrows raised, and Anita sighed, knowing that she couldn’t necessarily argue because she was, in fact, out drinking.

Anita drained the rest of her beer and asked Witt for another, her last, as Loba told her about her day, how _annoying_ everyone had been and how she just couldn’t _wait_ to come home to her. Her voice kept dipping into that flirty, borderline-inappropriate tone of hers whenever she described the _fun_ she wanted to have with Anita tonight, but Anita hardly registered any of it, staring at some point in the distance.

She supposed that she could just do it now.

Hand Loba the ring, ask her to marry her, and then drink all the rejection away when she left without another word. She was half-sure that Loba would laugh at the sight of it—Anita didn’t know anything about stones or jewelry or what made up a good wedding ring, and had chosen the simplest thing she had seen at the store.

 _Diamonds are a girl's best friend,_ Loba had said before, and so she had gone off that. Gotten her a diamond ring after borrowing one of her ruby ones out of her jewelry box so that she didn't have to guess the size. The thing sat in her pocket now, weighing a ton. Emotionally, at least.

Anita sighed, and when she got her next drink didn’t even bother opening it, reading the label on the back over and over again to give herself something to do. Loba took note of her silence and fell quiet as well, the nail of her index finger tapping lightly against the bar, either impatient or frustrated or a combination of both.

“Is there something that you want to tell me?” Loba asked, and Anita knew that she was going to ask until she got what she wanted.

“No,” Anita said first, and then immediately changed her mind. “Yes.”

Loba’s finger stilled against the bar. “Which is?”

 _I want to marry you,_ is what had been resting on the tip of her tongue for ages, now—and tonight it had been loosened up by alcohol and exhaustion. 

_Here goes nothing_.

She was tired of the damn thing burning a hole through her jacket. She reached into her pocket, dug it out, and the placed it on the bar, not even looking at it, almost afraid of what it represented.

Watched Loba pick it up out of the corner of her eye, holding the gemstone up in the light, before sliding the thing over her finger.

“For me?” She asked, surprise coloring her dangerous honey voice.

“For you,” Anita answered.

“Beautiful." Loba held her hand up, and Anita stared at the way the light glinted off both the diamond and her crimson nails.

They fell into silence then, and now it was Anita’s turn to tap her fingers against the bar, leg bouncing. Loba was a smart woman, but she didn’t know if her message had been received. Was afraid to ask it out loud. Was afraid to hear a _no._

But she had to. She wasn’t a fucking coward. They were both _adults_. She was almost forty—they could work through this. She could handle having her feelings hurt.

“Will you?” Anita asked shortly, voice coming out more clipped than intended.

“Will I what?”

“Marry me.”

“Of course,” Loba said without missing a beat, and Anita’s heart stopped in her chest.

She glanced over at Loba, saw the way her pretty lashes fluttered over her high cheekbones as she stirred her drink.

"You hear me right?" Anita asked, and Loba laughed.

“Goodness, dear, I thought you were going to tell me you've had enough of me."

Maybe last year she would've felt that way. Overwhelmed by _everything_ that made up Loba Andrade, the money and fame and attitude and lifestyle that she could hardly comprehend.

But the Anita _now_ could see past the ruby earrings and gold accents. Could see Loba for the beautiful and intelligent and dangerous woman that she was, a woman that she could spend the rest of her life with. A storm she wouldn't mind getting caught up in.

"I wasn't sure about this," Anita said out loud, honest, and Loba raised her chin.

"What changed your mind, _amada_?”

She let out a sigh, the tension in her shoulders easing as she made eye contact with her girlfriend for the first time that night. No, not girlfriend— _fiancée_.

She smiled at her, knowing that it must have come out strained, but that was just because of the anxiety leading up to this moment. Inside, she could hardly believe it. Was one step away from sweeping the woman off her feet and kissing her.

_Get it together, Williams._

“You did,” Anita said, and Loba smiled at her, something genuine. Not that flirty tilt of her lips or knowing smirk. An actual, _genuine_ smile, all pearly whites and sharp canines.

“I’m glad that I did,” she said, and reached over to place her fingers on Anita’s wrist, a gentle gesture, not too overt. Just the way she liked it.

Anita took another swig of her drink, making a mental note to call her ma tomorrow night. Let her and Loba meet. They’d probably plan her whole wedding for her, and she was fine with letting that happen.

She considered telling the kids that she'd done it to get them all to shut up, but she didn't want to pick her phone up right now. Didn't want to break the magic that was Loba Andrade, her _fiancée,_ sitting beside her tonight. Laughing and drinking and teasing Witt, the diamond on her finger bright.

She'd made the right call.

**Author's Note:**

> i dont think anita or loba would make proposing Too Big of a deal so the casual bar scene was what i thought of. sure anita toyed with the idea of a fancy dinner, but it just didnt feel right yet
> 
> SORRY FOR THIS BEING SHORT and also inconsistent/rushed i wrote most of this on my phone and my vision is very blurry right now. i am tired. THANK U FOR READINGGG


End file.
